The Pensieve of Severus Snape
by Ezzie
Summary: What would you find in Severus Snape's Pensieve? A snapshot of scenes in Snape's life. Warning: OoTP spoilers inside.
1. Introduction

This is a fanfic that I've been sitting on for about six months now. To my delight it fits in perfectly with OoTP. It wasn't planned that way. Inside you will find OoTP spoilers, so beware.  
  
This is not a story with a plot. There is no beginning, middle, end, climax, or any of that. Each episode is simply a snapshot in the life of Snape. They are not in order, so keep that in mind.  
  
I don't know how many episodes I'll write. Perhaps 10, perhaps 100.  
  
Enjoy, Ezzie 


	2. Episode I: The Dreams

  
  
Episode 1: The Dreams   
  
Severus's mind was stuck somewhere between lucidity and the dream. Something was chasing him again; something always seemed to be. He'd even seen the thing once, although he had not waited around long before turning to start running once more. It took the form of a giant dog with jet-black fir and hateful eyes. The two of them were always running in a field of tall grass that reached his knees, prickling the bare skin under his robes. He was almost there, although he had no idea what or where there was. It was just a feeling inside of his chest, tightening, and urging him further. He approached a small hill and then tripped, hitting the hard ground whilst the long grass poked at his face. He woke with a start.   
  
It was thundering outside loudly, the sound piercing the monotony of rain falling on the roof above him. The room he was lying in was cold and he had inched the covers of a shabby, holey blanket up over his head. Cold sweat covered his body, it had apparently soaked through his bedclothes and he was shivering. With his left hand he pulled the covers off to get fresh air and it was then that he realized something was wrong. A drop of water landed on his nose, another on his temple and then he heard them hit the shabby woolen blanket.   
  
Sitting up, he reached under his pillow for his father's old wand. He pointed it into the room and muttered Lumos. The room lit up dimly. He pointed the wand at the roof and saw the gathered water dripping down onto him below. Reparo, he muttered softly and watched in a sleepy stupor as the wood mended itself, closing off a large gap filled with water.   
  
He threw off the soaked covers and climbed out of bed, flinching slightly as the cold floor beneath his feet penetrated through thin socks and sent another pang of shivering through his body. What was the drying spell again? His father had taught him that so long ago and now he couldn't remember.   
  
He set the wand back on the bed, letting its end still light up the dank room, casting eerie shadows from the blankets on the walls. The room itself was sparsely decorated. Two old, weary looking chests flanked a dilapidated door that led into the sitting room, where Severus knew his father would be sleeping in a high wing backed chair. There was dirt everywhere, on the floor, on the walls, on the furniture. It was impossible to keep out of the shack, even with Scouring Charms. There were holes in the walls, leaks in the windows, and as Severus had come to realize yet again, in the roof as well.   
  
One thin hand ran through his dank hair, squeezing water from the ends. Some of the water hit the floor but more of it hit his thin, worn-through socks. Evanesco? No, that couldn't be it. He pondered simply changing clothes but his father would wonder why he had and upon learning that Severus couldn't remember the drying spell, he would be furious. It was always in Severus's best interest to avoid angering Severus Snape Senior.   
  
Severus picked up the wand again, gripped it in his right hand and closed his eyes. Think. The Drought Charm. Severus pointed at the bed and whispered the words to the incantation. He saw several streams of green light flow from the wand and when he reached down to the bed he found the blankets and mattress dry. He pointed the wand at his own clothes and muttered the incantation again, feeling them become stiff and instantly warmer against his body. He climbed back into bed, put the wand beneath his pillow and fell asleep quickly.   
  
  
  
* * *   
  
He was back in the field running, dodging rocks, feeling the hard earth beneath the thin soles of his shoes. There was a house up ahead, a house that Severus knew well. He knew he was welcome there, and a lovely house it was. He ran for it, listening closely for the approaching dog that always seemed to run faster than he could. He tripped within yards of the marble threshold and woke again. This time he heard pounding on the front door. It must have been so loud to wake his father, for he heard hushed cursing and the shuffling of feet from the next room.   
  
Severus crept stealthily out of bed and put his ear to the door, wondering to himself if it was the owner of the tiny shack he lived in. Had someone found out he'd used his father's wand?   
  
"What are you doing here!" his fathered cried.   
  
"I've come to see him. Please let me in, I'm soaked and terribly cold," came a woman's pleading voice that sounded oddly familiar to Severus.   
  
"You've no business being here. Now go!"   
  
The door slammed shut but the knocking came again. The heavy oak front door creaked as it opened once more.   
  
"I said go - away!"   
  
Severus wanted to find out who the woman was, she obviously was hear to see him, but his father would be furious with him for interrupting.   
  
"I've every right to see him! He's my son too!"   
  
This was his mother? For a moment his head spun. Surely Severus Senior could forgive him just this once if he disobeyed. It was purely a natural curiosity, after all. He reached for the rusty doorknob, turning it as quietly as he could, but knowing it would creak with old age. He pulled the door open slightly to peer out.   
  
His father had the front door opened wide and when a flash of lightning struck the grassy grounds in the distance, it lit up the entire field. He could see the Manor beyond and the silhouette of the woman on the threshold. She apparently had seen him too, for she gasped and covered her mouth with a single black-gloved hand. Even at this distance, Severus could see she was near tears. The rest of her was tall, lanky, with Severus's high forehead, and the posture he recognized as his own. In the other hand she was clutching a letter of some sort.   
  
She rushed inside the shack towards him, holding the letter out for him to take.   
  
"This is yours, my son," she whispered breathlessly as she shoved it into his hands. Hers were delicate and she didn't let him go, pulling his own to her lips and kissing his cold skin. Her lips were chapped and dry.   
  
"He's no longer your son, you filthy.."   
  
"He has my blood you cretin! How can you let him live this way? In this.... shack?" she squealed while surveying the room. She then returned her gaze to his. "He's frightfully cold and obviously filthy!"   
  
"Are you criticizing my kindness?" came a silky voice from the front door. Severus looked up from his mother's eyes to see a man in a black cloak standing on the dirt threshold. His blond hair was shining brilliantly in the light from the field beyond as more lightning struck the ground. Severus always thought he looked like a king.   
  
"You call this kindness? Allowing a child to live in such conditions?"   
  
"Where else would you have us go after you've so thoroughly ruined my family?" the elder Snape spat at the woman. He rushed forward, grabbed her arm and ripped her away from Severus. With a rough push, he threw her out of the house, allowing her to land in the mud puddle outside. She whimpered, rose to her feet and looked one last time at him; he could see the pain in her eyes and the fear on her face. A loud pop echoed through the nighttime air and she disappeared. Something heavy landed in his stomach.   
  
"Thank you, sir," his father uttered. "I hope she did not disturb you."   
  
"Not at all. The House Elves alerted me that she had arrived on the grounds. I came out with the hope of assisting you."   
  
"And you have, and I thank you. As does Severus, right son?"   
  
He felt his head nod appreciatively and the blond haired man smiled at him, although it looked forced.   
  
"I take it that is your letter from Hogwarts?" he asked kindly.   
  
Severus looked at the letter for the first time and saw the red wax Hogwarts seal on the back of the envelope. On the front was printed neatly:   
  
_ Severus Snape, Jr.  
Little shack, Malfoy Estate  
Wiltshire, England.  
_   
  
"Yes sir, it is."   
  
"Well done then. We all have high hopes for you. Good night." The man then turned and walked back towards the large Manor across the field. His wand was pointed upwards creating a shield against the rain.   
  
His father closed the door and turned to look at him. Severus was sure he would punish him again; perhaps make him clean the shack, or sleep out in the rain. Instead he merely muttered, "go back to bed. We will go to Diagon Alley in the morning to get your school things."   
  
Severus never did fall asleep again that night, though. He read the letter over and over again by the light of his father's old wand, trying not to get overly excited about Hogwarts. But he couldn't help being excited at the thought of leaving here and going off to make friends like normal children did. Perhaps he would even have a bed that wasn't rained on constantly. The Malfoy children often complained about Hogwarts, how awful it had been with all the Muggleborns everywhere. But they talked also of feasts, parties, and Quidditch. Severus was dying to experience these things. He couldn't restrain the small, hopeful, smile that crossed his face and lasted well into the next morning.   
  
  
  
  
  
--   
  
by Ezzie 


	3. Episode II: Friend to Foe

Episode II: Friend to Foe   
  
The black dog pounced on him, pushing him onto his back and now was standing above his limp form. The cold of the wet grass was penetrating through his second hand robes. The dog was holding a wand, pointed at him, which Severus knew wasn't possible. Non-magical creatures weren't allowed to possess wands, and canines certainly fell into that category. He reminded himself it was only a dream and forced his eyes to remain open to bear witness even though drool was dripping into them from the cavern of teeth above him. It stank like raw sewage and caused him to retch, an action that only dug dog claws further into his bony chest.   
  
Then the dog did something it never had before. It shook him and called his name, so loud in fact that he woke.   
  
"Severus? Severus wake up!"   
  
He opened his eyes to see dark rows of books not far away. He blinked several, revealing dim moonlight as it shone through the tall windows and lit up the room in melancholy tones of gray. The only other light was from a small brass lamp a foot away. In it's polished base he could see his startled reflection and several indentations in his pallid face that closely resembled a hand, a quill and a book. Behind him stood a girl. Severus inched his right hand closer to his wand and gripped it tight.   
  
When he turned to face her he met penetrating green eyes.   
  
"Hi," she smiled kindly. "I was just doing rounds. If one of the Profs catches you here..."   
  
"What time is it?" he heard himself croak in a sleepy voice.   
  
"Nearly three... Ah..." she said, looking down at his things. "Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.Ls tomorrow." She reached inside her robes, pulled out a wad of paper that was folded neatly and waved it in the air proudly. "I can relate. I've been studying while patrolling."   
  
"Er... Right."   
  
Severus stood and began to quickly put his things in his tattered satchel nearby. It was only a matter of time before one of the Professors came into the library and the last thing he wanted going around school was that he'd been here with _her_.   
  
"You don't have to go. I won't say anything."   
  
"Sure you won't," he replied sarcastically under his breath. He knew who she was, Lily Evans, top in their class at everything except Defense Against the Dark Arts where he had managed to excel farther than anyone else in school. Even worse than that though, she was a Gryffindor Prefect.   
  
"I really wouldn't," she said softly. "In fact if you want, we could study together."   
  
The words incensed him like no others she'd ever said. Foul girl, he thought to himself. Blackmailing him, threatening to turn him in if he didn't share his notes with her. He was used to this tactic, but not from... _Mudbloods_.   
  
"I'm tired and need to get back to my dormitory," he managed to say instead of the horrid words he wanted to throw at her.   
  
"I'll walk you, then, you know in case Peeves finds you or something."   
  
Incredulous. Why wouldn't she just leave him alone? What was she setting him up for? He knew exactly what was going to happen. They would get halfway to the Slytherin entrance and then run into her partner in crime, Remus Lupin. Next thing he'd know, Slytherin would be down fifty points and out of the race for the House Cup. It was a brilliant plan, and he had to give her credit for that.   
  
He looked deep into her eyes, really wondering if that was it, though. And he wondered if he could do it like his father had taught. His wand arm rose, armed, and pointed in her direction. She backed up slowly, the expression of confusion on her face.   
  
"Or not..." And the impending look of fear on her face was enough for him. He didn't even need to use a spell to make her confess, she wore the answers on her face.   
  
"I'm more than capable of handling Peeves," he muttered as he walked away.   
  
"I didn't mean to imply."   
  
He slammed the door to the library as he left.   
  
* * *   
  
The dog. Again. Two nights in a row wasn't unusual, but it startled him nonetheless. It wasn't all that surprising really, given what a day he'd had; little sleep the night before, the humiliating incident after his O.W.L exams. But tonight the dog wasn't chasing him, it was standing calm and still and on its back was perched a child, a girl. She was about six years old, or so Severus thought. Her hair was black and had been chopped off short in a messy manner. Black spectacles hung off her nose; they were too big for the face they adorned.   
  
"I will never believe you meant it," she whispered, in response to which the mongrel beneath her growled and looked ready to pounce on him. Tiny fingers reached down and clenched a hold of a handful of black fur and skin; the beast calmed under her touch.   
  
Severus woke with a start and found himself in a replay of the previous night's events.   
  
  
  
"It's past curfew," she said haughtily this time. "You'd better get back to Slytherin before I report you." He knew she meant it this time. There would be no more friendly encounters with Lily Evans after what he'd said to her in front of the school, and surprisingly he felt no remorse. He knew why he'd done it: the gang of Slytherins that were standing behind her.   
  
It took him mere seconds to put all his belongings back inside the leather satchel and make for the door.   
  
"I don't get you," she called out after him. "I was only trying to help you. What is it with you people and all this Mudblood madness?" Severus turned to find her cheeks were lit up with anger. It made her hair seem all that much more red.   
  
"I told you. I don't need any of your help," he growled.   
  
"Right. I suppose it was all part of your grand plan to let Potter yank your skivvies down in front of the entire school? Well executed I say! Don't know when I've seen a better plan!"   
  
"You don't know anything about it, so just mind your own business." He pulled open the door and made for the dungeons quickly. When she caught up she was panting and had to run beside to keep up.   
  
"I know more than you think. I know why you went to live with the Malfoys."   
  
That was it. She had done it. He stopped and pushed her against the wall, getting into her face and pinning one hand on her shoulder.   
  
"You'll be wise to never mention that to me again."   
  
But instead of the intended affect, which was to scare her, Snape found himself pushed inside an empty classroom. Baffled he stared as Lily peered out the door. Seconds later she closed it, leaving them all alone in the dark. He was half horrified at the prospect of being found here with her, and baffled as to why she would trust him.   
  
"It's Potter!" she whispered. "Those idiots! I can see their feet!" She went silent for a few moments then started again, this time sounding quite mischievous.   
  
"Up for a bit of Potter baiting? He and Black are under an Invisibility Cloak, probably out looking for trouble. All you have to do is make your way quickly down to Slytherin. No doubt they'll follow you. I'll be close behind, but they won't see me. I bet you anything as soon as you reach the dungeons they'll try something and then I'll get them. Oh yes I will! It will be midnight tea with McGonagall for them and if we're lucky a week's worth of detention. What do you say?"   
  
Enticing, he thought. As much as he loathed Lily Evans and her nosey ways, the chance to land Potter and Black in a heap of trouble was beyond tempting, it seemed downright necessary. Plus, McGonagall always took points off for breaking curfew. If he was lucky this might give Slytherin the lead for House Cup.   
  
"Fine," he muttered curtly not wanting to appear overly obvious.   
  
And sure enough her plan worked perfectly. What idiots those two were, he could hear them scuffling after him through the corridors. When he reached the stone entrance to Slytherin, he heard several incantations and felt magic hit him in the back, but he had been ready. Apparently so had Lily Evans because she was now standing feet away pointing her wand at James Potter and Sirius Black. Their wands, she tucked into a pocket.   
  
"Out of bed? Again?" she said triumphantly. They eyed her with a horrified look.   
  
"Lily... we were just uh..."   
  
"Breaking curfew? Using magic in the halls? In possession of an illegal item, namely that handsome Invisibility Cloak?"   
  
"You forgot picking on smarmy morons," Potter replied playfully. "Who, by the way, also looks to be breaking curfew." Potter grinned nastily in his direction.   
  
Lily looked around the hallway with a confused look on her face and turned back to them.   
  
"Funny, Potter, I don't see anyone else here but the three of us. Perhaps your cockiness and stupidity are slowly being replaced with dementia. You should really have that looked at. It sounds like the work of a Dark Wizard to me."   
  
Severus had to give her credit for the on the spot thinking. He felt his lips curl into a sneer.   
  
"Honestly! You're going to take sides with a git that called you a Mudblood today over a guy who has been in love with you for years?" Sirius bellowed out. Severus noticed James go several shades of red darker and give his friend an incredulous look. The comment had its affect on Lily and she looked stunned, unsure of how to respond.   
  
Severus ducked behind the door to the Slytherin common room, assuming whatever came afterwards could only mean trouble.   
  
  
  
--   
by: ezzie 6/25/03 


	4. Episode III: Forced Beginnings

Episode III: Forced Beginnings

Snape sat in a chair across from the door that Harry had just walked through. The room was dusty and obviously worn by ages of occupancy. The floors were scuffed by frequent foot traffic and the floorboards warped by constant scrubbing. Harry walked on them timidly, trying to make as little noise as possible. The reluctance in his gate seemed to indicate he was unsure why Snape was here. After their last Occlumency lesson, it seemed very unlikely that Harry and Snape would ever need to have a private conversation.

"Sit," the elder man commanded of the boy. Harry complied cautiously, putting one hand on the back of the chair as he walked by it. When he sat, he was forced to face Snape as the high wingback chair obstructed his view of anything else in the room. To look to one side would give away that he was merely avoiding the man's eyes. 

Snape was certainly just as intimidating as ever, even though he wasn't sitting behind his foreboding wooden desk. He was wearing a black traveling cloak instead of his teaching robes; the differences were minimal however. Snape always looked the same no matter what setting he was in. His left hand was curled around the end of the chair's high armrests as his right hand played casually with velvet strips that some creature had torn up out of the upholstery.

Harry and Snape stared at each other for what seemed like hours. Neither was afraid to meet the other's eyes and only the occasional crackle of a dying fire filled the room with sound. Snape spoke first, but it was clear from his tone that it wasn't how he had intended to begin the conversation.

"You will no doubt be thrilled to learn that I will not be teaching Potions next year." Snape's hands rose to come together in a steeple.  
  
Harry looked at the man intensely, confusion written on his face, hoping for the punch line. It never came. In fact Snape ceased talking at that point and just stared at Harry for a long while. The youngster peered back, unsure of what to say, but the silence was unbearable. Snape rose and walked slowly to the other side of the room. 

"You and I… have much to discuss, Potter."  
  
He stopped speaking momentarily, unable to get more words out, as if they were painful memories, or disgusting notions.

"I understand Granger gave you a number of books on Occlumency over the past few months."  
  
"Yes she did." Harry was still sitting in the chair although the tenseness of his legs seemed to indicate he was considering standing. 

"And you've been reading them?"  
  
"Constantly. There is nothing else for me to do at the Dursleys."

"And the dreams? They have stopped?"  
  
"No." Harry's eyes drifted guiltily to the mirror that hung over the chair where Snape had been sitting. 

"Care to elaborate?"  
  
"Not really." Green eyes met black again in a fierce stare. 

There was silence in the room once more and Snape began to pace, his traveling cloak now sweeping dust off the floor. As he moved from one side of the room to the other, he seemed to notice the darkened trail, for he took off the cloak and folded it over the back of the chair. It was some time before he spoke again.

"You once asked Dumbledore why he trusts me, did you not?" Snape whipped around to stare at Harry once more. Harry nodded curiously.

"There are reasons to tell you, many in fact. But there is one reason to keep it concealed from you. I'm sure you can guess what that reason is."  
  
"Because Voldemort can read my mind," Harry responded quickly, almost as if he were expecting the question.  
  
"For the last time, Potter, do not say his name." Harry's face screwed up into a fury and he rose from the chair at last and began waving his arms in the air crazily.

"It will not be the last time. I will scream his name until the cows come home! VOLDEMORT VOLDEMORT VOLDEMORT!" 

They were almost nose to nose when Harry crumpled to the floor laughing hysterically in a maniacal voice that was not his own. Snape stepped backwards quickly, hitting his back against the wall. Moments later, with a look of horror on his face, he slid down to his knees and pressed his face to the floor. Only the sound of Harry retching made Snape raise his head seconds later to see the boy on his hands and knees spread over the semi-digested contents of his morning porridge.

"He can hear you," Snape whispered. "He can hear you through my Dark Mark and he can hear you in your own head, Potter. Don't be such a fool."  
  
Harry looked up at Snape; both were on their knees still. Harry had vomit dripping down his chin.

"Why didn't you just tell me that before?"  
  
"I would have thought it would be very obvious to you by now."  
  
"Well it's not! Nothing is obvious to me. Everyone thinks I'm some sort of bloody genius. I don't know why you expected me to be able to learn Occlumency! Or why anyone thinks I can defeat Vol… You-Know-Who!" Harry took a deep breath. "I'm tired of people making ignorant assumptions. I don't know anything about the wizarding world, all right? I didn't grow up in it! I didn't know what purebloods were, or Mudbloods, or this whole stupid, ridiculous notion that I'm supposed to kill Vol… You-Know-Who." Harry dropped his head again. "I didn't even know that my Dad was a prat."

Harry didn't notice, but Snape had opened his mouth to shout back at the boy, but at this last sentence, he closed it again. There was a curios look on his face.  
  
"Do you think anyone goes through life with an honest opinion of themselves or of each other? Life is all about manipulating people into thinking what you want them to. It's called perception. You would do well to learn that skill."  
  
Harry looked up at Snape, deep into his eyes.

"You mean to lie to people?"  
  
Snape rose to his feet once more, pulled out his wand, pointed it at the vomit beneath Harry and executed a Vanishing Spell. The vomit disappeared.

"You have no knack for subtlety, Potter. It's not lying, it's deception, and I know first hand that you already have experience in the matter." He began pacing again, but on the other side of the room this time, away from Harry and away from the sour stench of vomit.

"It is a tool, a defense; the ability to control your emotions, the expressions on your face and the way your body responds to pressure filled situations. Surely even…" Snape paused as if he hadn't meant to say that last word. "Surely you can see why it would be beneficial."

When Snape turned around again, Harry was on his feet but leaning precariously against the mantle of the fireplace.

"Occlumency is merely an extension of that. You must clear your mind. Clear them of the thoughts that haunt you and that make you weak. These are things He will be able to use against you. It's about making him believe you have nothing to share. If you can do that, he will not be able to penetrate your mind," Snape said softly. 

Silence rang throughout the room as the two stared at one another again. Harry seemed deep in thought, confused, and perplexed. Snape looked back at him with tired eyes.

"I can't do it. I've tried. Every time I close my eyes I see… everything happening all over again. My parents dying, Cedric dying…" Harry paused, unsure of whether or not he should be saying this at all. " And Sirius."  
  
"I would think the latter would have inspired you to try harder."  
  
"I can't try any harder! Haven't you been listening? I'm not capable of doing it! I've read those books; I've practiced time and time again. The dreams only get worse. It isn't working!"

"So you're going to give up? You're going to whine like a little child hoping Dumbledore or someone will come save your neck?" Snape was goading him now.  
  
"Have I any choice? Even if I don't, this is just going to keep going on and on and nothing will ever come of it. I might as well just hand myself over to V.. You-Know-Who now and save everyone the trouble of worrying about it" There was a pitiful tone to Harry's voice as he said this. 

There was silence once again at these words as the boy dropped himself into the chair and rested his aching head in his hands. He rubbed the scar there roughly as if attempting to massage into acquiescence. Snape sat across from him again, silent, and obviously diverted from his initial intent.

"You can do it. Everyone knows you can. You must. It's time for you to get over yourself, Potter. No one is going to sit here and hold your hand and make you do this. It is only something you can do and it takes time. It took me many years."  
  
"You expected me to do it on the first day," Harry spat back, his head only slightly elevated from his hands. He stared Snape in the eyes again. "You wouldn't have bothered with the Penseive if you didn't think something would happen. I couldn't do it the first day and I still can't do it. You're wasting your time, and… I don't understand why you're even here."

At the mention of the Penseive, Snape had sat back into his chair uncomfortably, as if he wanted to bring up anything but the memory of seeing Potter and his son both sharing in the excitement of that single humiliating moment.

"Dumbledore wants you to continue your training, Potter."

Harry shook his head negatively. Dismay was written all over his face.

"It's pointless, doesn't he realize that? How can I learn from you when I'm angry all the time? I bet he doesn't know that all you do is insult me to the point that I can't think straight. You are the worst teacher I ever had."  
  
"He is actually quite aware of that, Potter," Snape said in a soft voice. Harry's cruel words didn't seem to have any affect on him at all. "There is little that he is not aware of."  
  
"Then why is he bothering?"

"Because there is no one else who can teach you what you need to know."  
  
"I bet Lupin could," Harry muttered.

"Lupin has more patience for your insolence, this is true." Harry looked up at Snape, giving him an awful stare. "But Lupin will not be able to simulate the conditions under which you will meet the Dark Lord. What good would Occlumency be to you if you only practiced it when you are amongst _friends_? No, Potter, I am invaluable necessity to you."

Snape was now leaning forward in his chair with a serious and deadly look on his face. He began to speak very quickly and excitedly.

"Think back to when you faced the Dark Lord after Black's death. Think of your hate, rage and anger. I know you tried the Cruciatus curse on Bella, Potter." Harry's eyes became very wide as these words. "_Those_ are the conditions under which you will need Occlumency. The mind behaves very differently under pressure and Lupin simply cannot give that to you. I spent five years building up your hatred for me and am therefore better suited than anyone else, as much as I loathe to admit it."

Harry seemed confused at this turn of the conversation and he sat up straight in the chair as if it was an attempt to move further away from the maddened man in front of him. Snape was now perched on the very end of his chair and leaning over, closing the distance between them.

"I have asked Lupin if he will attend our sessions however. He pointed out to me that perhaps early on you need some _hand holding_." Snape raised his eyebrows to further sink in his point and then stood up quickly.

"We will begin tomorrow at noon, Potter."  
  
He picked up the traveling cloak from the back of his chair and swept out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Lupin was waiting in the hall.

"Has he agreed?'

"As much as he ever will. I will arrive tomorrow around noon, Lupin." He pushed past the werewolf and towards the foyer. His wand was already midair and was readying for Apparating when Lupin stopped him.

"I know you're still very angry at him for the Penseive incident, Severus. But he's not a cruel boy. He isn't James. I've spoken with him about it and I believe saw it for what you saw it as. Try to remember that."  
  
"I don't want his pity Lupin." Snape raised his wand again. "Or yours. I never have."  
  
"It wasn't pity, Severus and I think you know that."  
  
The two men looked at each other. Snape never responded, he merely raised his wand and was gone with a loud pop a second later. 


End file.
